ephemeral iridescence
by ultraviolets
Summary: — the radiant spectrum between sorrow and hope • cho chang and a life told in vibrant hues (a biography of cho chang told in chronological one-shots)
1. ignominious

There was a stick-figure family etched onto the cover of the card with painstakingly careful strokes. Careful for a young girl, that was. There were exaggeratedly wide smiles on their faces, as though if Cho drew them big enough they might become real. Her pencil marks were rigid, with an undeniable ferocity to them despite the happiness of the image. It was only after further examination that one could see how many times they'd been traced over.

The forcefulness of those smiles, drawn a dozen times over.

Cho was especially proud of the paper, frivolous as it was. But she'd spent her allowance on it- a soft and smooth cream-colored parchment with a golden border. Appearance had always been of utmost importance to her mother, and seeing as it was her birthday today, Cho wanted to make sure absolutely everything was to her liking. She'd spent two hours and her entire allowance to make sure it was perfect.

And it _was_.

To her.

It was the most perfect little family she'd ever seen, all holding hands and grinning like fools.

Cho could not recall a time that such a smile had ever graced her mother's face. But perhaps today would be the day.

Perhaps this card would be a prediction of what was to come.

She could hope.

She signed her name at the bottom with a heart, just below the rather sloppily scripted _to mommy_ at the top. After a moment's consideration she erased _mommy_ with such vigor she nearly ripped the paper, before replacing it with _mother_.

There.

Now, it was perfect.

* * *

Mrs. Chang had not wanted a cake. She had not asked for a cake or balloons or gifts or anything of the sort.

But Cho did not care.

It was her birthday, after all, and what was a birthday without a cake?

She was in the kitchen now, standing on her tiptoes so that her short frame might reach the countertops, which were dusted with flour. The powdery drifts of it covered Cho, too, not that she minded.

She squinted at the recipe book, trying to make sense of the directions. The next step was to pour the cream into the bowl for the frosting.

She reached for it, leaning across the table to do so-

And her foot slipped in the puddle of melted butter on the floor from before, sending Cho backward, arms flailing before she landed on the floor with a definitive thump.

Feeling the beginning of what was sure to be a painful bruise on her knee wasn't even the worst of it. Neither was the small bead of blood that had formed on her ankle from the place where it had collided with the sharp corner of the table's legs.

No.

The worst of it was the door swinging open, hearing her mother's heels click against the tile floor before stopping altogether.

The worst of it was hearing her suck in a sharp breath before releasing it in a long, exasperated sigh.

Cho dared to peer at her from where she was now, tucked away between the table and the wall. Her _happy birthday_ fell away at her lips as her mother's piercing eyes met hers.

"What have you done?"

* * *

"The kitchen's a disaster, what were you thinking?" she chided, bustling around the kitchen and waving her wand so that the mop would make its way across the floor.

Cho didn't answer. She was not sure what she would even say.

The truth didn't seem like it would suffice in this situation.

She stepped aside nimbly, narrowly avoiding being hit by the mop handle as it floated past her.

"Go to your room," her mother said sharply. "Before you get hurt."

Cho did not mention the fall from earlier. She was careful to check that no blood or bruises were visible as she made her way to her bedroom, scampering up the stairs two at a time and not caring as she nearly slipped and fell on the last one.

She pressed herself into the corner of her room, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Only then did she notice the trail of flour-dusted footprints she'd left in her wake.

She shut the door before slipping into the bathroom and grabbing a towel. With the same painstaking care with which she'd attempted to bake the cake before, she cleaned every last particle of flour away until the floors were spotless.

Cho felt no pride at a job well done.

It was only after she tasted the saltiness of them did she realize that the tears were there. She did not know for how long.

She kept the door shut.

Her mother had never liked it when she cried. She said it was unbecoming of her. And crying over something so irrelevant as a messy kitchen?

Disgraceful.

And so Cho did not leave her room, even after the tears were long gone.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that Cho remembered the card.

 _The card._

Two hours of meticulous planning and detail, her entire allowance, that beautiful cream paper-

But it wasn't her mother's birthday.

Not anymore.

It would be incredibly foolish of her to try to give it now.

Perhaps she could wait until next year. But next year Cho would be eight and her mother's expectations would have grown more rapidly than herself. Such a card would not suffice for next year.

Cho tossed it onto her desk, a moment later reaching over to prop it up so it didn't look quite so haphazard

Those smiles were mocking her. That happy, perfect family, looking as though they had not a care in the world.

She placed the card face down and did not look at it again.


	2. disheartenment

It was a cold, dreary day, one characterized by heavy rain that pattered on the door and wind that whistled through the walls. Cho was sitting near the window, her gaze forlorn and distant. She was not fond of days like this, of days when the storm outside brought her down with it.

Her father was nervous as well, and she hadn't the slightest idea why. He kept stealing glances outside at the sky as though he was looking for something.

Waiting for something.

And when Cho tugged on his arm and asked him what it was that was troubling him so, he simply turned to her, offering a tight, forced smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."

Cho didn't believe him for a second, but she didn't want to be so bothersome as to ask again. He had given his answer and it wasn't going to change.

And so Cho sat beside him, her wide eyes on the sky and the world that lay above.

Watching, waiting, but for what, she had no idea.

* * *

The owl started as nothing but a blot on the horizon. A speck of tawny brown in a perpetually gray sky. Cho pressed herself against the window to better see what it was, hands splayed, framing it between her fingers.

Her father released a breath all in one go, a sigh of relief as the owl became discernable. It flapped its wings against the heavy gusts of wind, dangerously close to being blown sideways and off-course. There was an envelope tied to its leg, a small square of paper being whipped around and splattered with rain.

So that's what her father had been so worried about.

The mail.

Cho barely hid her disappointment.

* * *

He showed the letter to her, pride shining in his eyes. All signs of worry were gone now, replaced with a warmly relieved smile.

 _Dear Ms. Chang,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July…_

Hogwarts.

She had been accepted to Hogwarts.

She'd always known, really- her parents had told her about it from a young age. She was a pureblood witch, after all. All a letter did was confirm what they'd already known.

But then why did her father look at it as though it had saved him from a terrible fate?

She only realized why later, on a sun-drenched day in August when they'd ventured to Diagon Alley to purchase her books.

When her parents had encountered one of her father's colleagues and they'd struck up a conversation.

When her father spared her a glance of sympathy before leaning in to whisper something Cho could not discern, save for one word: _Squib._

That was why.

They had told her that she was a witch, but they had not even known it themselves.

* * *

Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor was a hubbub of activity, crowded with Hogwarts students. Cho was quick to hand off her shopping bags to her father before sprinting to the counter and asking the man there for peach sorbet, her favorite.

It was only when he asked for two Sickles that she whirled back around- to find her rather disgruntled father standing there, arms laden with shopping bags and a look of disapproval in his eyes.

"Please?" Cho asked. Just a few weeks ago he'd been so proud of her.

Now it didn't seem as though he would even spare her two Sickles.

His only reply was a slight shake of his head.

Cho's face fell, and she turned back to the counter just in time to see Florean Fortescue slide a bowl of peach sorbet towards her.

Cho swallowed hard and went to apologize, to tell him that she no longer wanted it. Her steps were slow, tentative, as though if she dawdled enough her father might lament and give in.

He did not.

Fortescue offered her a sympathetic smile before pulling the bowl back.

Cho did not linger for even a moment before she made her way back to her father's side.

* * *

Her depart on The Hogwarts Express was an unceremonious affair. She pushed her cart to the platform alone, her parents trailing like shadows behind.

Her father offered her a few words of farewell before she climbed onto the train, settling into an empty compartment.

He had not spared her two Sickles for a peach sorbet, but Cho dared to spare him a glance out the window.

She dared to spare him a wave goodbye, and she did not check to see if he'd waved back.


	3. effervescence

There was a slightly tattered magazine in her hands and a mane of platinum-blonde curls cascading down her back and a hazy half-smile on her face, and Cho was not sure what to make of all that.

But this was one of the only compartments she'd seen that wasn't completely full, or worse, occupied by older students. Despite it being her third year now, the task of choosing somewhere to sit on the Hogwarts Express was still terribly daunting. And so Cho braced herself, plastering what she hoped was a friendly smile onto her face before carefully knocking on the door.

The girl looked up from her magazine, pushing a pair of multicolored glasses up from where they'd slipped down the bridge of her nose.

"Hello," Cho managed to softly stammer out.

A sparkling smile spread across the girl's face, and she offered an enthusiastic wave, welcoming Cho into the compartment. "Hello!" she chirped brightly.

Cho bit her lip, not quite sure what to say. She was tentative as she sat down opposite the girl, peering with interest at her magazine- The Quibbler, it seemed to be called- before realizing that she was staring and averting her gaze elsewhere.

She was staring blankly at her faded reflection in the glass door when the girl spoke again. "I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood. First year."

Shaking herself from her stupor, Cho offered a small smile back. It was not nearly as vivacious as Luna's, but it was something. "I'm Cho Chang. Ravenclaw, third year," she replied, her voice slow, cautious, and careful as always.

"Ravenclaw!" Luna echoed, her blue eyes growing wide and animated. "I'm hoping to be in Ravenclaw," she admitted. "It's where Mum always said I'd be. But I think I could be in Hufflepuff, too. I wouldn't mind being in Hufflepuff." She tugged at a lock of her platinum-blonde hair as she talked a mile a minute. "I wonder what it's like to be Sorted- what's it like?"

It took Cho a moment to realize she'd been asked a question. "It's um, interesting. I'm not sure how to describe it…" Cho trailed off. Her decision had been a quick one- a brief deliberation between Slytherin and Ravenclaw before the latter had been chosen.

Luna bobbed her head in an understanding nod. "I'm sure it is," she said genuinely. "But I can see why. It sounds like a complicated process…"

And just like that she was talking once more, and Cho was more than content to listen.

It was nice, she realized, to just listen.

To not have to worry so much about herself for once. To not have the scrutinizing eyes of her parents, her peers, and her professors all trained on her every move.

Luna, she realized, did not seem the type to have to deal with such scrutiny. Carefree and effortlessly happy, she looked as though nothing could faze her.

Perhaps this decidedly peculiar first-year could teach Cho a thing or two.

And so she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands as she nodded along to what the other girl was saying. She continued to listen and dared to hope.


	4. trepidation

Cho had become afraid of walking the castle corridors alone at night. She was not proud of it by any means, but she could not help it.

It had started with the cat. And students, Hogwarts students, no different than Cho herself, had followed.

There was a dark shadow draped over the school this year, one that took the sunlight that would stream in from the windows and scorch it to charcoal. Dark, dark charcoal. The part of the flame that bore no brightness.

Tonight was no different.

Cho had lost track of time in the library, poring over books on pixies- troublesome creatures- for Professor Lockhart's class. It wasn't even a class so much as an advertisement- a daily commercial for all things Gilderoy Lockhart. Cho absolutely despised it, though what she despised more was the way so many of the girls in her class tended to bow to Lockhart's every whim.

But Gilderoy Lockhart was the last thing on her mind now as she made her way through the halls, books clutched to her chest, acutely aware of the sound of her own feet against the floor. The walk back to Ravenclaw tower was by no means a long one, but it felt like ages to Cho.

With every step she took she could not help but peer around the corner of the next hallway, half-expecting to see a monster.

She reminded herself for the umpteenth time that Hogwarts was a safe haven.

That there were charms and hexes and professors, all there for the sole purpose of her protection.

But she still could not shake that horrible feeling of fear. Fear, and _vulnerability_.

She despised that most of all.

* * *

Cho was nearly back to the dorms when she heard the sound of voices.

"A basilisk? Who would've known?"

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Cho held her breath, afraid to make her presence known.

 _A basilisk._

A feeling of nausea swept through her as she pictured it.

So that was the monster they were all speaking of, then.

The voices drew closer, and Cho pressed herself up against the wall as so not to be seen. A moment later she chided herself- what was she doing?

It wasn't the basilisk itself, merely two people discussing the matter.

She reminded herself that a dozen times over as she stepped out of the charcoal shadows and continued on her way.

"Cho Chang?"

The voice saying her name was stilted, yet familiar.

Cho whirled around- and found herself face-to-face with Penelope Clearwater, Ravenclaw prefect, a mirror held like precious treasure in her hands. She dimly registered that Hermione Granger was walking beside her.

"Penelope," she stammered out. "Sorry, I was studying and just now heading back…" She trailed off, not wanting to waste her words on such mundane things. Instead, Cho cut to the chase. "Did you say basilisk?" she asked, whispering for no discernable reason.

Penelope pursed her lips in a frown, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Yes. We ourselves were just conducting research of our own in the library," she said in her usual pompous tone.

"Oh," Cho replied, not quite sure how to respond to that. Small talk had never been her strong suit.

"Anyway, it's late and we should not be wandering the halls at this hour," Penelope declared. She turned as if to walk away- and then she froze in place.

It wasn't a freeze as if to stop in her tracks.

No, it was as though she was actually paralyzed. She did not blink. She did not move. Her foot was raised as though to take another step, but it never came.

Cho could make out the sound of hissing. Her breath hitched, and she dared not move.

Hermione, on the other hand, was quick to follow Penelope. Cho's distraught _what are you thinking?!_ went largely ignored as she too stepped forward.

Cho didn't even have to look to know she'd met the same fate. Her third footstep never sounded, and the hissing continued.

The basilisk.

Cho was not proud of it, but she turned on her heel and ran.

She was a coward. A coward who could not even protect her own prefect. A coward who ran away in the face of danger, as so to save her own skin.

A coward and a fool.

She did not stop until she made it, breathless, to the Hospital Wing.

Her voice wavered as she told Madame Pomfrey what had happened. Penelope, their invincible prefect, now a statue of ice.

Perhaps the charcoal shadows were laughing at them all, now.

The thought sent a shiver down Cho's spine.

* * *

She was running again now, this time back to the safe haven of the Ravenclaw dorms. Only when she was securely in her room, blankets wound around herself, did she finally let her guard down.

The tears came in earnest, shuddering sobs she was grateful no one else could hear.

She did not sleep that night

She watched the shadows with wide eyes, for who knew what sort of monsters were lurking within them?


	5. illusory

Cho's first kiss was Michael Corner. She had not cared much for him at all, and in hindsight, she was disappointed with the fact that he'd been her first kiss.

That he would be, always and forever.

It was her own fault, really, and she had only herself to blame.

In the Great Hall at dinner one day, he'd slipped her a piece of parchment, asking if she'd like to accompany him on the next trip to Hogsmeade.

There'd been another pivotal piece of parchment beside her plate that day, one deposited there by a tawny owl just moments before.

It was from her mother, asking how she was doing. Or, Cho amended as she read it, how her _grades_ were doing.

For once, it would have been nice for her mother to ask about her. About not the grades but the girl who worked so hard to maintain them. She tended to look away from the other students who received owls, mostly because the majority of them contained parcels of sweets or warm knit sweaters or handwritten notes that waxed poetic about how much they were missed.

But not her mother.

It was that very parchment that prompted her to turn to Michael Corner.

To carefully fold his note as her eyes met his, and to offer the slightest of nods.

But it was not because she cared for him.

Oh, no.

It was because selfishly, hopelessly-

She wanted someone, just someone, to care for _her._

* * *

The Hogsmeade trip was on a Sunday, and Cho had all but forgotten about her plans until Michael stopped her in the common room on her way out.

He caught her eye as he waved her over, and she could see the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. Cho swallowed hard and stepped towards him before she could change her mind.

"Hello," she said, twisting her lips into what she hoped was a convincing smile.

His own smile in return was exuberant. Bright and jovial, as though Cho had offered him a million Galleons.

"Cho!" he stammered out, tripping over his words as he continued, "we should probably get going, don't you think? Where would you like to go? I'm a fan of Zonko's myself- they've got the funniest…" he trailed off when Cho didn't reply, kicking at the ground as he said, "but if you don't like Zonko's we could go somewhere else."

He turned towards her, the pinkness on his face having grown brighter upon their stepping outside into the crisp autumn breeze.

Cho shrugged. "Zonko's is fine," she said. "It sounds wonderful."

Michael beamed, and Cho almost felt bad for lying. Almost.

But when he looked at her like that, like she hung the sun in the sky every morning, she felt something she couldn't quite pinpoint.

It wasn't love, that was for sure.

But it was enough to keep her from telling him the truth.

It was enough that when he slipped his hand into hers on the walk back to Hogwarts afterwards, Cho held on and didn't let go.

* * *

"Have you heard? Cho Chang and Michael Corner are _dating._ "

This time, it was Cho's turn to blush as the whispers floated past her. She'd never considered it official- did a handful of trips to Hogsmeade and the one time he'd pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before they'd parted ways for the night make it official?

Honestly, Cho wasn't sure.

She had to admit, though, that it had felt good. Not necessarily the kiss, but just to know that here was someone who felt sorrow when he said goodbye to her. Here was someone who looked forward to seeing her in the mornings.

And so Cho still did not tell him the truth. When the other students continued to gossip, she bashfully looked away, letting a blush warm her cheeks.

Letting them take all of her lies as truth.

And, months later, when the whole charade almost- but not quite- felt like something more, something real-

When Christmas came and Michael approached her under the mistletoe-

Cho offered no resistance as he pressed his lips to hers.

This was not love.

 _This was not love._

But for Cho, it was enough.


	6. conflagration

Cedric Diggory was the first boy Cho ever fell in love with.

He was not Michael Corner, not someone who Cho kissed and held hands with just to feel something, even when that something was nothing more than shallow affection.

Cedric was different.

Cedric was the boy who made Cho look like the fool. The boy who made her dizzy, who colored her world rose-gold.

Cedric was the boy Cho took it upon herself to approach beneath the mistletoe that Christmas. And when she kissed him- her second kiss, she was still bitter- that rose-gold ignited into a crimson fire.

And Cho let herself be engulfed by the flames.

* * *

He was two years her senior, not that she cared.

Let them say what they would, Cedric would whisper to her, interlacing their fingers. It didn't matter. What mattered was him and her, and the future that lay before them.

The future that Cho worried Cedric would throw away, that fateful day he put his name in the Goblet of Fire. He reassured her a thousand times over that he would be fine. It wasn't like his name would be called, after all.

But then it was.

* * *

Cho's nails had been bitten into nothing more than pink stubs. She was afraid they might bleed soon. Her ears were ringing with the roar of the crowd and her eyes were glued to the spectacle before her, unable to look away no matter how it troubled her.

Cedric, standing up to face a dragon.

She had warned him, warned him that it was dangerous. It was not a challenge to be taken lightly, not by any means.

But what was she really afraid of?

Losing him, or losing the one person who'd ever truly seen her?

She reminded herself that they were one in the same.

It was only a moment later that she also reminded herself that he wasn't going anywhere.

In that moment, the fire dared to prove her wrong.

It was not the crimson-pink embers from before, the ones that had set her heart aflame.

No. This fire burned strong and true, from the snout of the dragon to Cedric's face.

Cho choked on a scream.

She embraced him later in the Hospital Wing, and was barely able to keep the tears from spilling over. She wouldn't break down, not in front of him.

It was only when she was alone that she let them fall.

Crying was disgraceful. It only served to weaken her.

And she could afford to show no weakness.

* * *

Cho no longer gave a damn about crying.

Let them see her cry, let them see her sobbing.

Let them see why, let them see her collapse beside Cedric-

Beside Cedric's cold, motionless, _dead_ body.

They had not even closed his eyes yet.

She didn't care that she'd gnawed away at the last of her nails, didn't care that her own crimson blood now stained the grass where he lay.

She had warned him. She had tried. She had told him it was dangerous, told him that he should have never put his name in the wretched goblet in the first place.

But of course, noble as ever, he hadn't listened. He'd wanted to play the hero.

And Cho had been foolish enough to let herself become the damsel in distress.

She realized then that she was done playing that role.

The best way to not get hurt, she realized, was to let nothing hurt her.

They had to pull her away from him, but they didn't have to help her up after that.

Cho rose on her own, chin lifted with resolve.

She had let the fire warm her heart, but now she let it consume her.

Cho swallowed the last of her tears. She numbly took the automatic apologies, the whispers of I'm sorry for your loss.

She _was_ sorry to have lost him.

But she was also sorry to have lost herself. The girl who'd fallen head over heels for Cedric, the girl who'd strung Michael Corner along, the silly little girl who'd cried like a fool in front of her mother so many times-

She was gone.

Cho brushed the last of her tears from her cheeks and did not let them fall again.


	7. falsification

Despite them being housemates for nearly five years, Cho could hardly recall ever exchanging more than a handful of words with Padma Patil.

It's not because she didn't like Padma- she had no reason not to.

It was simply because their paths were clear-cut to be different and had never had a reason to cross.

And after five years, Cho was fine with that.

More than fine, really.

She'd never had many friends, and she had no reason to expand upon the few that she did.

At least, that was what she told herself.

But over the years she'd learned that if she told a lie enough times, it almost started to sound like the truth.

* * *

One hundred and twenty-nine.

It had been one hundred and twenty-nine days since Cedric's death.

One hundred and twenty-nine days since Cho had shed a tear- a record for her.

Pitiful, really. What was even more pitiful was that she'd mentally kept a tally of how long it had been all this time, like some sort of lovesick fool.

It only further spurred the gossip: the whispers and hushed conversations that after Cedric's death Cho Chang had become an inconsolable wreck. She wasn't sure what was worse- the scandalized rumors or the blunt questions about what it was like to lose someone so close to her and in such a horrific way.

They'd finally lessened, and today no one had even spared her a second glance. She was not sure if that was a good or bad thing, though it wasn't until she remembered what today was that she realized why.

October 31st. Halloween.

 _That_ was why. The students of Hogwarts had much more festive things to attend to than a girl mourning a boy who'd died months ago.

Perhaps Cho could join the festivities, she thought, lips twisting into a smile.

She wouldn't even need a costume. She could go as Cho Chang, the ghost of the girl Cedric Diggory had loved.

* * *

It was a few hours later that she decided that she would not go to the Halloween feast. Padma Patil had made the same decision, she noticed, spotting the girl sitting in the otherwise empty common room on the chair opposite Cho.

Cho had never been one for conversation, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. Besides, she was curious. What was it that kept Padma from attending one of Hogwarts' greatest revelries?

"Not a fan of Halloween?" she asked, the words tumbling out suddenly.

There was a beat of silence where Cho wondered if Padma would even bother to reply.

"Not really," Padma said slowly, her words tinged with melancholy and what seemed to be regret. "I just don't see the point of it. What's the point of being someone else for a night? In the end, you're still yourself and that's never going to change." If Cho wasn't mistaken, she sounded almost bitter.

But it was not her place to push. Instead, she dipped her head in a nod. "Yeah, that makes sense," was her automatic response.

 _You're still yourself and that's never going to change._

It was a hard, unforgiving truth, a reminder to Cho why she tended to dwell so much on lies.

"It must be nice to pretend, though. Even if it's only for a night," she mused softly, speaking more to herself than Padma now.

"I've never thought about it like that." Padma's eyes were brighter now, as though a switch had just been flicked on. "Shall we try it?" she asked curiously.

"Try what?" Cho asked.

 _"Pretending."_

* * *

Cho stood in front of the bathroom mirror, painting her lips with a coral gloss. She was wearing a silver dress that caught glittered every time it caught the light, borrowed from Padma. She would never acquire such a thing of her own accord.

As she brushed her cheeks with powder the same coral shade of the lipstick, it was easy to believe that she was not Cho Chang. She was someone different, she was whoever she wanted to be. She imagined the endless possibilities as she set the final piece- a tiara charmed to sparkle like the stars- onto her head.

"You look like a princess," Padma remarked, though when Cho finally dared to look at her reflection in the mirror she thought otherwise.

Princesses were sweet and docile, with eyes full of hope and hearts full of love.

But no matter how hard Cho tried to pretend, she was no princess.

Perhaps she had been, once.

Then her prince had left and her kingdom had come crashing down around her, splintering into irreparable pieces. Leaving not a princess, but a queen.

Ruthless and unfeeling, hardened by battle- but stronger nonetheless.

Perhaps if Cho told that lie enough times it might finally become true.

But for one hundred and twenty-nine days, she had been trying, and she was still on the brink of falling apart.


	8. declivity

Cho Chang was not sure what exactly she felt for Harry Potter. He'd asked her to the Yule Ball and she had been quick to turn him down, so smitten with Cedric that the idea of going with someone else was unfathomable.

But that had been a different Cho.

For Cedric was gone, now, and Harry Potter was the only person who had truly seen him go.

Perhaps it was curiosity, then, that drove Cho to seek him out. At first, there were small interactions: stumbling upon him and Neville Longbottom on the train, engaging in stilted small talk upon crossing paths in the owlery, spotting each other across the Quidditch pitch and waving.

But those simple interactions soon escalated into something more. Something tangible, something real.

Cho had been standing on the precipice, holding on far too tight for far too long. It was beneath the mistletoe in the Room of Requirement one day that she finally let go.

* * *

Cho had felt nothing in that kiss. Nothing towards Harry, at least.

But she'd felt a thousand other things: grief and confusion and _guilt_ because he was not Cedric.

 _He was not Cedric._

And that was the thought that had sent Cho falling.

She was still falling when, months later, Harry asked her to accompany him to Hogsmeade.

She did not know why she said yes.

Perhaps it was simply to find something to hold on to.

* * *

The teacup was lined with bronze that stood out garishly against the lacy pink tablecloth at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. But of course, Cho wasn't all that concerned with the decor.

What she was concerned with was the fact that she was on a date, yet that was the thing she was most focused on.

Not Harry, who was sitting directly across from her, a distant expression on his face that showed that his mind was clearly elsewhere. Cho shifted uncomfortably in her seat, absently swirling her bronze spoon around the cloudy dregs of tea left in her cup.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, despite the fact that Cho had far too many things she wanted to say to him. _What was it like? What did he say? Did you even get to say goodbye?_

But those were dangerous questions, ones she dared not ask.

Instead, she let them echo around her skull until the silence finally broke again.

And the first thing out of his mouth was an offhand comment about meeting _Hermione Granger_ after this.

Cho didn't know why it hurt so much. It wasn't like she'd been invested in their relationship, after all. She had no reason to care.

Except she did. Because all she was to him was another girl. Someone to check off a list who knew how long?

This was what she got for trying.

 _This_ is what she got for moving on.

She stormed off, letting her temper get the best of her and not caring about the tears or the scene she was making.

She was _done_ being quiet.

The boy who lived, the chosen one-

He had not chosen her.

And the one boy who had was dead and buried.

Cho continued to fall, and there was no one to catch her.

* * *

She hardly spoke to Harry after that. Perhaps it was better that way. She let her questions remain unanswered, let her curiosity remain unquenched-

She would never truly know what Cedric's final fate had been.

But if Harry Potter would rather speak to Hermione then her…

So be it.

Cho held her head high and pretended to be unbothered.

She pretended like she had that night she'd been a queen.

Callous. Indifferent. _Heartless._

And somewhere along the line, the pretense shifted into reality.

 _So be it._


	9. buoyancy

" _Expelliarmus!"_ a streak of vermilion light shot from Cho's wand, sending Parvati Patil's wand flying. Cho stepped forward to admire her handiwork, unable to stop the surge of pride that swept through her as the wand hit the wall with a resounding clatter before falling to the floor.

She was getting better.

She may have been done with Harry Potter but that didn't mean she was done with Dumbledore's Army.

She wasn't about to run away crying from the one place where she actually felt some sort of purpose.

Where she felt something besides the cold grief that had overtaken her.

Apprehensive as she was about anything relating to Harry, even Cho had to admit that this was a good idea. Despite her parents' qualms, she still despised Dolores Umbridge and everything she stood for. The disastrous events that had occurred at Madam Puddifoot's wouldn't change that fact.

"That was amazing! Would you mind helping some of the others?" The voice startled Cho, prompting her to whirl around to see who it was.

Hermione Granger stood a few paces behind her, an amiable smile on her face.

Cho immediately stiffened. "Thanks," she managed to stammer out, before hastily adding "sure," as she realized she'd been asked a question. She lifted her chin slightly, nowhere near returning Hermione's friendly expression.

She was still resentful, much as she hated herself for being so.

Resentful because despite everything she worked so hard for, despite everything she'd been through-

Hermione still managed to come out on top.

Jealousy was a petty, unbecoming sort of emotion.

But that didn't stop it from worming its way into Cho's hardened heart.

* * *

She had not let herself feel in a very long time.

Today was different.

Today there was confidence in her voice, today she felt as bright as the vermilion streak from her wand as she dutifully instructed some of the other eager members of Dumbledore's Army on how to properly cast the Disarming Charm.

With her own wand held aloft, she did not feel so battered and broken.

She did not feel so cold and heartless.

There was a glimmer there, something that had nothing to do with Cedric.

And while jealousy may have been a small part of it, it was eclipsed by something more.

Something Cho could not pinpoint as it had been forgotten by her for so long.

 _Hope._

* * *

She was caught off-guard when, as the meeting was called to a finish, Hermione Granger stopped her on her way out.

"Cho," she said, "can we talk for a minute?"

Cho's lips flipped into a frown. "I suppose," was her lofty reply as the walls fell into place once more.

"I just want to apologize. On Harry's behalf and my own, about what happened at Madam Puddifoot's."

 _Oh._

That had not been what Cho had expected, not even close.

The walls came crashing down.

 _An apology._

She'd received what seemed to be endless apologies in the past year. _Sorry for your loss. Sorry for what you've been through. Sorry, you've had to endure all of this._

None of them felt genuine. They were all just formalities. Automatic, pitying responses upon receiving such terrible news.

This one was different.

Her jealousy all but dissipated.

"Thank you." The words were slow, cautious, careful.

She felt raw and fragile, as though she might shatter to pieces at any given moment.

For too long she'd closed herself off.

She may have called herself heartless, but now she realized how far that was from the truth.

Her heart might have been broken countless times, but that did not mean it was gone, or beyond mending.

Nor did this mean it was whole once more.

But it was a start.

Here was someone who seemed to care. Not for her looks, not out of pity, but simply because she thought Cho was someone worth her words and kindness _._

Cho gave Hermione one last meaningful look before turning on her heel and walking away.

* * *

It felt odd to have her lips curved into a smile. Almost unnatural. It felt odd to feel that undeniable spark of happiness in her chest.

Cho could not recall the last time she had smiled without it being part of her mask.

She could not recall the last time her footsteps had ever felt so light.

For the first time in nearly a year, Cho let herself go.

She was not falling but flying.

She let it carry her, as she began the long journey back to the light


	10. treacherous

**a/n:** written for hogwarts (challenges and assignments) - assignment 6, task 2: write about someone feeling/being powerful

also. i know this might contradict slightly what happened in canon and how cho acted. but that's the beauty of fanfiction: it's reimagining canon. things are a bit different here and that's okay :)

* * *

The Galleon in Cho's pocket had started to feel very heavy lately. At first, she'd carried it like a precious talisman, constantly checking the dates that were updated and then tucking it away before briskly heading towards the Room of Requirement, head held high.

Now it was beginning to feel like a burden, an omen, no matter how Cho tried to ignore it.

"It's just not right," Marietta Edgecombe had whispered to her on the walk there one day. "I mean, Professor Umbridge is teaching us like this for a reason."

Cho had shaken her head. "It's not even _teaching,_ Marietta," she'd replied sharply. "Besides," she'd lowered her voice. "You-Know-Who is back. We've got to do _something."_

Later, she felt bad for patronizing Marietta as she had; she was her friend, after all. But she'd also been increasingly irritating these past few weeks. Worrying about the what-ifs and the implications of doing what they were doing. Talking about what a dangerous game they were playing.

Cho didn't care.

She didn't care if they were caught.

She didn't care if Umbridge had good reasons.

She wasn't just going to abandon the one thing that made her forget her shattered heart, the one thing that started to mend it.

Standing in the Room of Requirement, wand held aloft, Cho finally felt powerful. Unstoppable. She didn't need Hermione Grander to validate her anymore - she'd gained her own reputation. Second only to perhaps Harry himself and his small posse of friends, Cho was one of the most talented members of Dumbledore's Army.

Close as they might have been, Cho wasn't about to let Marietta take that from her.

* * *

Amber light streamed in through the large windows, illuminating the chair in the Ravenclaw common room where Cho currently sat, Marietta opposite her.

They had not spoken much since Cho's outburst a few days ago, and Cho wasn't sure she missed it.

Without Marietta to hold her back and tell her to be careful, she'd had some time to practice her spells. She'd cast a corporeal Patronus the other day, a silvery-bright swan that had soared through the empty corridor before dissipating.

Now, she could face fear itself head-on and come out on top.

Why couldn't Marietta see that this was a good thing?

She continued to come to the meetings, though Cho could detect a bitterness in her friend's eyes.

She did not feel the power and confidence as Cho did.

Perhaps it was because she had not been broken as Cho had.

* * *

The same bright amber sunlight was aplenty in the Room of Requirement later that day. Cho realized only belatedly that Marietta had not come to the meeting today.

She was not surprised.

She was surprised, however, when the doors were suddenly violently blown open.

When Dolores Umbridge, seething with uncontrolled rage, strode into the room. Wands fell from students' hands, mouths gaped in shock.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was spotting Marietta standing near the edge of the doorframe, the word _sneak_ written across her face in crudely inflamed pink boils.

Cho was shaking, _livid,_ as she realized how careless her power had made her.

" _How could you?"_

* * *

"Cho," the words were soft, tentative, and laced with tears. "I'm sorry."

Cho turned away. She didn't dare meet her eyes.

"Why? Why would you do that?" Cho snapped, taking no care to be polite anymore.

Marietta, her friend - or so she'd thought - had betrayed her. Betrayed all of them. And all for what? Umbridge's favor?

Cho had no space within her for forgiveness.

The one place she'd felt validated, the one place she'd felt powerful, like she mattered, like she was more than the dead boy's girlfriend -

And one of her closest friends had stolen it from her, right under her nose.

Cho should have known. Perhaps if she'd paid attention, if she'd tried harder to convince Marietta that they were doing the right thing, if she'd waited for her that day so they could walk together…

But no.

Cho hadn't done any of that.

She'd thought only of herself and the power she'd gained, and now they were all paying the price.

Her heart, so painstakingly pieced back together, was cracked once more.

Cho was so used to the pain she hardly felt it.


	11. ethereal

**a/n:** this fic was written for hogwarts (challenges and assignments), assignment 6, transfiguration task: write about someone going through a change (minor or major, physically or mentally is completely up to you)

* * *

They may have called it the Black Lake, but from her vantage point on her broomstick soaring high above the Quidditch pitch, Cho swore it looked turquoise.

It glimmered as the sun's rays hit the water, a rich deep blue, nearly teal, that was so alluring Cho nearly tumbled off her broom when a Bludger whizzed past her ear, so close it lifted her dark hair and sent her heart racing.

"Come on, Cho!" Roger Davies called from a few feet away, hands cupped over his mouth so that his voice would carry further.

Cho nodded fervently, mentally chiding herself for being so distracted. She was playing Quidditch, she reminded herself, and if Slytherin scored a win this match they'd be out of the running for the cup.

Face set with new determination, Cho sped forward, eyes darting around in search of the Snitch. She spotted a fleck of gold off near the edge of the pitch, a glint so faint she nearly missed it. Whirling through the air, she kept her eyes trained on the spot as she poured on the speed.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she was weightless. Weightless and utterly alone, with only the crisp spring breeze to keep her company

It was exhilarating.

There were no parents to judge her or boys to pressure her or Marietta Edgecombe to curl her lip in that look of distaste she always gave Cho now. There was nothing but vast and endless sky, a pinpoint of glittering gold on the horizon-

And Roger Davies' voice jolting her back to variety.

She ducked just in time to see a flash of red above her as the Quaffle was passed from Chaser to Chaser, right over her head.

 _Careful._

She mustn't be distracted, she reminded herself for the umptieth time.

Her determination, cool and calculating, borne of heartbreak and sorrow, seemed to be multiplied here. Here out on the Quidditch pitch, the wind whipping her hair, she felt her inner turmoil like a fierce storm.

She had to remind herself a dozen times that she was here because she wanted to be. That Quidditch was one of her favorite things to do. But it was difficult to find enjoyment in it.

For she could not just forget everything she'd been through.

That was the last clear thought in her head before a Bludger collided into her skull with a terrible crack.

She only realized how careless she'd been when she'd already tumbled off her broom, and suddenly she was falling.

* * *

This time she was not falling through darkness and shadows and memories better left untouched.

No.

Cho was falling through wind and sky and air, arms flailing and out of control, out-of-focus faces swimming so close yet so far away.

She was not sure which was more terrifying.

She continued to fall, dropping like a stone. The feeling of purity, of flying without a care in the world just moments ago was already a distant memory.

The last things she saw were the tail of Roger Davies' Quidditch robes, a lustrous bronze fabric fluttering in the wind, and the turquoise of the lake, almost too bright to bear.

Then the world plunged into darkness.

* * *

Cho was not sure she wanted to wake up.

Her head was throbbing and her eyes were still closed, lashes fluttering.

Contemplating.

What was it that she would find when she opened them?

She could not think of a single thing that would make it worthwhile.

She succumbed to the pain and let the darkness take over once more.

* * *

There was a girl on a broomstick far, far away. Barely a blot on the horizon, but unignorable all the same. There was something akin to a smile on her face, something akin to brightness in her eyes.

Cho recognized her, but only faintly.

It was like looking at an old photograph. A faded album, pages yellowed.

She began the journey down memory lane

* * *

The first thing Cho saw was the bright turquoise sky. Head tilted to the side, even in deep slumber she seemed to have found the light.

Her eyes were open now, fully, arm slightly outstretched, having been reached out towards that forgotten girl.

She had smiled at her and nodded. Her face, youthful and radiant, had been welcoming. Encouraging.

And that was how Cho had woken up.

* * *

She paid no heed to the flowers by her bedside. She did not even read the tag. When Madame Pomfrey asked if she'd like help carrying the arrangement up to the Ravenclaw dorms, Cho had shaken her head.

"You can keep them here," she'd said.

Perhaps she'd had a secret admirer. Perhaps they'd been from someone who fancied her.

Cho realized, as she walked away from the Hospital Wing without once looking back, that it did not matter.

For it was not Roger Davies nor Michael Corner nor Harry Potter nor even Cedric Diggory who had pulled Cho out of that bleak darkness.

It had been none other than _herself._

* * *

She was flying again and in no danger of falling.

She was confident and sure, determined but not ruthless.

She let herself feel, feel the wind in her hair and the warmth in her heart.

Cho was soaring once more, letting the sunshine and the sky carry her up and away.

There was nothing more satisfying than feeling her hand close around the Snitch.

Cho was flying and she was finally free.


	12. covetous

Harry Potter's new girlfriend was Ginny Weasley, and he made no attempts to hide it. Cho had first spotted them one day during a match against Hufflepuff. Just before they'd mounted their brooms they'd shared a small, quick kiss and a fluttery wave farewell.

Cho's heart had twisted, a pang so sharp it felt as though it was palpable.

She'd forced herself to look away.

She still didn't know why it hurt so much.

She was _done_ with Harry Potter and she was _done_ feeling sorry for herself and she was _done_ falling apart and yet -

Every time she passed Ginny Weasley in the corridor, an almost angelic smile on her face, Cho always looked away.

She supposed it was a good thing they'd never become friends, despite the fact that Cho rather admired the other girl.

That would have only made this all infinitely more agonizing.

* * *

Teal was the color of the twilight sky the day Cho decided to venture up to the Astronomy tower. It had since become a habit of hers, to let the stars take her someplace far, far away.

She did not notice the other girl there, not until she was already seated near the vast window, fingers framing the rising moon as she splayed her hands on the glass.

It was only when she heard the faint rustle that signaled the presence of someone else did she finally tear her gaze away to take in the rest of her surroundings - and found herself face-to-face with none other than Ginny Weasley.

This time, Cho could not look away so easily.

It was Ginny who spoke first, a simple and polite, "hello."

"Hello," was Cho's echoed, stammered-out reply.

"It's nice up here, isn't it?" Ginny mused softly, tilting her head towards the window and drinking in the seemingly endless expanse of teal sky, dotted with the faintest of stars.

Cho nodded wordlessly, though inside she felt as though she were burning.

This girl had kissed Harry Potter without shedding a single tear.

This girl had never caused such a scene over something so small as a mention of Hermione Granger.

This girl had a boy who loved her, one that was still very much present and _alive._

What had Cho done to deserve otherwise?

She offered Ginny a tight smile before turning once more to the stars, wondering if the cosmos would offer her any sort of answers.

* * *

If only Ginny Weasley hadn't been so damn _nice._

Since their short conversation in the Astronomy tower, she now took the time to smile at Cho every time they crossed paths in the corridors. Cho would always be sure to smile back, though each time she thought it was less of a smile and more a grimace masked to wear the guise of one.

She was filled to the brim with bitterness and resentment, though the more she realized Ginny had nothing to do with that, the more she channeled it inward, letting it chip away at herself. For she could not blame Harry Potter for loving Ginny and Ginny for loving him, and there was no one else to condemn aside from Cho herself.

The walls and masks that Dumbledore's Army had finally allowed her to shed, the things she'd learned that fateful day she'd finally stopped falling and started flying, were fleeting indeed.

It was troubling how quickly Cho was able to conjure them once more, to fall into that rhythm of hiding it all away. Odd that despite how hard she'd worked to rid herself of it all, it still had an uncanny way of returning.

She was not flying anymore.

But she was not falling either.

Cho stood her ground, forcing herself to be content where she was.

Even then, though, her eyes could not help but wander to the stars and sky above.


	13. fray

Lavender was a pretty, sweet name for a pretty, sweet girl. One who did not deserve to be where she stood now, Cho thought. But this was where they were - in the midst of a war. And this time, it was not Cho's war of inner turmoil, of herself and her feelings, of walls painstakingly built even as they crumbled to pieces time and time again.

This time it was a war of bloodshed and tears, of spells and wands, of light and darkness.

And Cho had thrown herself into the center of it.

She was on her feet still, on her feet _now_ , having returned to Hogwarts in order to fight. The great wizarding school may not have always been kind to her, but she still had that charmed Galleon.

She still remembered what it stood for, remembered that fleeting feeling of facing fear itself and not letting it consume her.

Now Cho was a beacon of light in the twilight sky.

The Battle of Hogwarts raged in full force, and Cho had come back in order to take her place in it.

Her mother had worried. Her father had warned her. Cho did not care.

Now she was standing beside Lavender, a girl she did not know nearly as well as she would have liked, but who seemed to be her only ally in a sea of enemies.

They were surrounded now, and Cho's spells were growing weaker.

She told herself over and over that all they had to do was hold on. Hold on tight, and never let go.

For this fall did not seem to be one that they would ever recover from.

* * *

"Cho Chang?" Lavender asked, bewildered, as though she'd only just noticed her.

Cho spun, narrowly avoiding a streak of emerald light. "Yes?" she said tersely.

Lavender smiled. "Good to see you," she said warmly. "It's been a while."

"What?" Cho pursed her lips into a frown - was she dull? They were in the middle of a _battle,_ a _war,_ and she was dwelling on formalities.

Cho cast a shield charm, the force of it sending her staggering backward. A turret of the castle behind her exploded into a million pieces of shrapnel, the sheer sound of it jarring. Cho spared a glance towards Lavender.

Her easy smile was gone, replaced by a look of utter terror. Eyes wide, she was trembling from head to toe.

Cho watched as she stole a glance behind them, at the rubble that they had called home for seven years.

Lavender collapsed to her knees at the sight of it.

Cho was no Gryffindor, but she had to do _something._

"Lavender, look at me," she said, stepping over the shattered stones towards her.

"Cho…" she said, her voice distant.

" _Look at me,"_ Cho said again. They may not have been friends but they were allies now, two stars in a bleak night sky.

One of whom was quickly fading.

Cho grabbed Lavender's arm, pulling the girl to her feet. She was like a statue, petrified with fear.

Cho thought of Penelope Clearwater, her dutiful prefect she did not save all those years ago. Cho would not leave Lavender to the same fate, she decided.

Her shield flickered weakly.

Cho did not spare a glance behind her before she yanked Lavender behind the piles of debris. The bricks offered some cover, however small it might have been.

Lavender sagged against them, limbs falling limply. "I'm sorry, Cho," she said softly.

 _No, no, no._

Who was Cho to be the strong one? Who was Cho to guide her?

Cho was nothing.

She was a girl constantly on the verge of tears, a girl who let jealousy and regret consume her until they were all she knew.

Lavender was not so damaged. Lavender deserved better.

"Come on. Please."

She deserved to be the strong one.

And she _was,_ Cho realized, as the next booming explosion seemed to yank Lavender back to reality.

She blinked away the tears, stood of her own accord.

She turned to Cho, the despair all but gone.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

* * *

Perhaps that was what made a Gryffindor, Cho mused.

A bit of raw bravery, a bit of noble chivalry, but also -

 _Recovery._

Being able to bring yourself back from the brink, being able to catch yourself whenever you should fall.

It was not a skill Cho had, not by any means.

But Lavender -

She was different. She _was_ the strong one.

They were on their feet again, face to face with their attackers. Cho's lips were numb, throat parched from shouting incantation after incantation.

But she was here and she was fighting, and that was what mattered. She was back in the Room of Requirement, back on the Quidditch pitch, she was a beacon of light, a star, _unstoppable -_

A horrible scream shattered her to pieces once more.

As she whirled around far too late -

But just in time to see Lavender swept away by a large, canine creature.

Cho's breath caught in her throat.

For it wasn't just any creature.

She only caught the barest glimpse of it as it barreled away, bounding nimbly over the wreckage and leaving Cho standing helplessly in the wake of the dust it kicked up.

 _A werewolf._

Cho scrambled over the bricks, but she was not so agile. She could fly, soar up and away, but on the ground, she was slipping and falling and -

She stumbled, hissing at the sharp pain as one of the fallen stones sliced her knee. Her legs buckled as she cried out, her next step sending her foot wedged between two bricks from where it did not budge. The werewolf became but a dot in the distance, Lavender's screams disappearing along with him.

No.

 _No._

Cho thought she might be sick. With a quick flick of her wand, she blasted away the rocks, staggering to her feet.

But once again, she was too late.

Lavender was long gone, and Cho had not even had the chance to say goodbye.


	14. bereavement

Cho was numb. Numb and cold, a bitter chill sweeping through her that had her hands shaking and her heart frozen to ice as though she'd never be warm again.

Numb to the world around her, to the students sagging against each other with relief and sobbing and hugging while Cho remained a statue, head tipped back, eyes trained on the periwinkle, early-morning sky.

The sun was rising to a new day.

The Battle of Hogwarts was over.

But Cho's own battle raged on in full force.

Her neck ached from having been tilted upward for so long, but she didn't mind the slight strain. Anything was better than the alternative- looking down to see the bodies of the fallen.

They'd salvaged as many as they could from the wreckage, bringing them into the light.

Cho did not know if they had found Lavender.

She did not dare to look.

It was only when she felt the slightest of touches, a feathery-light brush at her arm, did she shake from her stupor.

Parvati Patil, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, face streaked with tears, opened her mouth to say something before choking on a terrible sob, averting her gaze and sucking in a deep breath before trying again.

"They said...they said that they saw you with her. Lavender." Parvati stumbled over her name, taking another shuddering breath. "Before-" she didn't finish.

Cho's eyes widened.

It was like looking into a mirror, into a time capsule from years ago.

It was like looking back into Madam Puddifoot's tea shop that fateful Valentines' Day.

"I saw," was all she was able to say, the words soft, tentative.

Parvati's rheumy eyes met hers. She opened her mouth once more before shutting it again, pressing her lips tightly together.

"I think they...they found her," she said. "Would you like to-" Cho arched a brow, curious. "Come with me to say goodbye?"

 _No._

Cho didn't.

It would only allow the failure, allow her utterly helpless stupidity to sink in.

Perhaps that was how Harry Potter had felt when Cho had asked about Cedric.

She remembered how it had felt to be brushed off, her pressing questions tossed aside.

She would not let Parvati fall to pieces as she had.

"Alright."

* * *

Cho did not know who had found her body.

All she knew now was that the girl who had once been Lavender Brown lay before them, limbs twisted at odd angles, blood caked on her skin.

Her eyes had been closed, blessedly, but that didn't do a thing to make her look even the slightest bit at peace.

Cho thought she might be sick. She tore her eyes away, desperately searching for something else to look at, something that could take away the images now burning at the forefront of her mind.

Lavender, screaming as she was torn away from her.

Lavender, rising like a phoenix from the ashes with newfound determination, only to have it stolen from her just moments later.

Lavender, body contorted, ugly gashes marring her paled, once-pretty skin.

Cho was startled to feel Parvati's hand latch onto her arm, holding on to Cho as though she were a lifeline.

"How did she…" the rest of the question hung unsaid in the air.

"Bravely. She fought well," Cho replied almost immediately. And she had. Lavender had battled not only her enemies, but her own despair, and she had done so valiantly.

She had not deserved this.

Cho swallowed hard, letting her eyes wander once more.

Parvati's profuse thank-yous rang in her ears, as the numbness settled over her once more.

She sank to her knees without realizing it, gazing up at the periwinkle sky, watching the first rays of sunlight reach up to touch the clouds.

The start of a new day, one without Lavender Brown.

Despite the brightness of the sky, the world seemed a desolate place.

Cho dared to look towards Parvati again, and the other girl's eyes met hers for the briefest of moments. But that look was all it took for the numbness to dissipate.

For Cho to _feel_ something.

Perhaps she had not been able to save Lavender.

But she had saved Parvati from having questions that plagued her in the dead of the night.

From speculating far too much over the what-ifs and possibilities.

From causing a scene in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, from sobbing a thousand times over the things she did not know.

Cho forced herself to take her own long, shuddering breath.

She rose to her feet once more and greeted this desolate new day head-on.


	15. zenith

**a/n:** i know it's much less angsty/dramatic than the other chapters of this, and more fluffy/light-hearted than anything i've ever written. but i feel like after all that, cho deserves a happy ending :)

* * *

There was an azure engagement ring on her finger and a stack of old books in her arms as Cho deposited the precarious pile into one of the boxes to give away.

Sure, they were sentimental, but she had no use for Hogwarts books. Perhaps he might like to see them, she reasoned a moment later.

After all, it wasn't every day that you learned your girlfriend was a witch, and he was bound to be curious. Cho was still waiting for him to snap.

For him to call her a monster, for that look of utter disgust to shine in his eyes, for him to turn and walk away from all of the madness that was her and her magical abilities.

But he hadn't. He'd smiled, brilliant azure eyes sparkling, and took her hand in his own.

The next week, he'd asked her to marry him.

Cho was still wondering if perhaps it was all a dream.

For once, she did not feel so full of regret and remorse. She did not feel that horrible guilt that made her dizzy, nor the coldness that numbed her to her very heart.

Perhaps, Cho mused, reaching into the box and selecting _Hogwarts, a History_ , this was all not a dream.

Perhaps she had finally woken up from a nightmare, and this was how things ought to be.

This was real.

This was true.

Over and over, Cho repeated it to herself, hoping that if she said it enough she'd believe it.

* * *

Cho had imagined her wedding day countless times.

Numerous with Cedric, when she had been too foolish and too young to know true loss. After Cedric, after Harry, it had become a taboo topic. One that she forced her mind to stray far away from.

And so it felt odd, almost ethereal, to be experiencing it in reality.

Cho was vaguely aware of her father's arm against her own as she walked, steps slow and careful, down the aisle.

She was vaguely aware of the soft sounds of her mother's tears.

She was vaguely aware of all the family she could not name, but acutely aware of the friends that she could.

Acutely aware of his face at the end of the aisle, those luminous azure eyes crinkled slightly into a smile.

Without even thinking, Cho smiled back.

* * *

Cho did not listen to the words of the officiant all that much. She recalled most of them from the countless rehearsals her mother had insisted on, so many that they'd lost meaning. Now all she could focus on was him and the vast future ahead of them.

It was that thought that made Cho smile all the brighter.

A future, one in sight, one that she knew would be worthwhile.

To imagine such a thing was a new sensation indeed.

So when the vows were finished and all was said and done, when he leaned forward and she did the same, arms entwining around one another-

Cho melted into his embrace, closing her eyes as his lips met hers.

This was not a dream, she realized upon feeling the sensation deep within her.

The feelings of love, validation, hope, that she could not ever recall feeling, now so close to her heart.

She held him close and stepped into that bright, bright future with open arms.


End file.
